Episode 12: Deadlier than Fiction
by Castle Season 9
Summary: The team from the Twelfth investigates a murder straight out of the crazy world of fandom, as Castle's own writing struggles have him questioning his future.
1. Chapter 1

**Deadlier than Fiction**

Season 9, Episode 12

Written by SeriesTherapy and Meg Moore

 _This is a work of fiction by writers with no professional connection to ABC network's Castle. Recognizable characters are the property of Andrew Marlowe and ABC. Names, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental._

* * *

Every day was the same. Seriously... every day. The exact same thing. Walk around the block. Wait for Alfie to do his thing. Return home. Day in and day out. It was _always_ the same.

Not for the first time, Lucy regretted the day she had promised her parents that, if they got her a dog, she would walk it every day. When she could manage it, she liked going to the nearby park for a change of scenery, but she was pressed for time that morning, not to mention she got sidetracked by the appearance of a wild Abra in her Pokémon Go app. Within moments, the Pokémon had vanished, along with any possibility of a good mood. She seemed to have gotten out of the wrong side of the bed that morning.

Her sour disposition had started the previous night, when her stupid boyfriend decided to ignore her text messages. Maybe she should check again. Taking advantage of the moment her dog finally stopped to relieve himself, she opened the Twitter app to have a look at his timeline. There it was: a tweet he had posted that morning. Ah-ha! She knew it! He had been on his phone, but decided not to reply to her.

Thinking the best strategy was to try to take her mind off of the issue, Lucy proceeded to catch up with the latest posts from her Instagram friends, since the Facebook app was taking too long to load. And maybe later, she could send her friends a picture with her dog. The face-swapping feature on Snapchat was always a hit.

She was brought out of her musings by a sudden, sharp tug on the leash she was loosely holding. Grabbing it more securely, she pulled in the opposite direction in an effort to make Alfie stop, but to no avail. The animal seemed to be intent on guiding her into the alley they were passing. Lucy shook her head and trailed after the animal in surrender, no match for the dog's strength.

"You know, you can be a real pain in the ass sometimes, Alf."

The dog started to bark in response, or at least, that's what Lucy thought at first. Then, she followed Alfie's line of sight and what she saw made her stop in her tracks.

It was a sneaker. Still attached to a leg. Something in her gut told her it wasn't just a homeless person who had crashed there for the night. Her first thought was to call 911, and she did just that, as she rushed to the person lying on the ground to see what the problem was.

The first thing the emergency operator heard was a piercing scream.

* * *

Kate stood just outside the bathroom, observing Castle from the shadows as he made his way through his daily grooming rituals. She'd seen it an uncountable number of times before, of course, but it was different today; _he_ was different today. Fascinated, she watched him pick up his aftershave for a second time, only to shake his head, thinking better of a second splash and replacing it in the cabinet. He _did_ opt for a second application of gel, sweeping it self-consciously through his hair, and Kate smothered the temptation to snicker at his vanity, her amusement just as quickly replaced by the painful clench of her heart at his obvious insecurity.

What was that all about, anyway?

But that was the moment she noticed him eyeballing the tube of gel once more, and realized it was time to make herself known.

"Mornin', babe. You look mighty fine today. Special occasion?" She pushed the cup of coffee she'd prepared for him into his hands, more to distract him from his styling products than anything else. He smiled in gratitude, so obviously pleased that she had learned how to prepare his order to perfection, but his face remained tight and tense, the smile fading just as quickly as it had appeared.

Her husband's hands wrapped around the warm mug, abandoning their mission to primp further, and he took a long sip, humming in appreciation. "As if you don't know exactly where I'm headed this morning, Beckett," he huffed.

Her own smile faltered at his comment. It was the second day of CrimeCon, a convention that revolved around crime fiction, and while he wasn't scheduled to participate in any events today, he was planning to go for a while just to interact with his fans. However, she knew his nervousness about tomorrow was escalating, when he was scheduled to be the featured guest at a sold-out panel of mystery novelists. They'd be discussing writing techniques and methods, and his writer's block was weighing on him.

It pained her to see him struggle; he'd always thrived on events like this in the past, interacting one-on-one with fans and having crazy, unexpected questions thrown at him during the panels. He was usually so _good_ at that kind of spontaneity, but right now he seemed so unsure of himself, so scattered and apprehensive, and it was so unlike him.

"Hey," she said softly, stepping up to stand right before him and reaching out to wrap her fingers around his forearm, getting his full attention. "What's up? You're not nervous about the panel tomorrow, are you?"

His eyes slipped shut momentarily, and when he opened them again, there was so much worry behind them, so like a panicked little boy. "How can I _not_ be nervous? I haven't exactly been productive lately. How am I supposed to tell aspiring writers how to write when I can't even do it myself?"

Her heart thrashed hard against her ribs, her most protective instincts rising to the surface. She'd known about his struggles with writing since the shooting, the only other person privy to the many times he'd groaned and slammed his laptop shut in frustration. _High Heat_ had been all but complete when he'd sustained his injuries, so he hadn't been called upon to do a great deal of writing lately, but she understood his fears. So much of his identity was wrapped up in being an author, and when he struggled to do the thing that defined so much of who he was, where did that leave him?

Well, she wasn't going to let him leave their home without being certain of her unwavering belief in him and his abilities, not if she had anything to say about it. He'd been nothing short of a rock for her when the mood swings that accompanied her pregnancy had sent her on an emotional rollercoaster ride. Now that her temperament wasn't yo-yoing at the drop of a hat, the least she could do was offer that same support to him, and it was so easy to do, especially when she had every confidence in the world that he would triumph in the end.

"Listen, I know you're hesitant to talk about the writer's block that you've struggled with, but you've come so far in your therapy with Dr. Burke, and you should acknowledge that. You've made real progress." He sighed, but before he could interject with any negativity, she continued. "Aaaaaand, something else to keep in mind? Maybe there will be an aspiring writer in your audience who is also working to overcome their own creative block. Hearing you admit that it happens to even the most experienced writers might make a huge difference for someone."

He just stared at her, a soft smile creeping back into place. "Thanks."

"Don't mention it. And you look very handsome. Even the men will want you to sign their chests." She quirked an eyebrow playfully at him, determined to lighten his mood further before he headed out for the day.

"Ha! Flattery will get you everywhere. And besides, I don't roll that way anymore." He shrugged as he set down the mug and slid forward, clutching at her hips and drawing her into his body with his coffee-warmed hands. "I only sign my wife's chest now," he added, leaning in until he could place a soft kiss on her lips.

"Mmmm, good answer," she murmured against his mouth, inhaling his scent, letting herself relax into his embrace. Of course, that was the moment their unborn child decided to make herself known, nudging hard against the wall of her belly where it was wedged between the two of them.

Castle gasped quietly and pulled away just far enough to look into Kate's eyes, his eyebrows rising in wonder. Feeling their baby move never failed to astound him, and it made her want to kiss him senseless for his unbridled devotion to their family.

"Was that...?" he trailed off.

"Definitely," she affirmed, her grin almost splitting her face in two as she watched him descend to one knee, framing her bump with his hands and whispering sweet hellos to their little one. "Guess she wanted to say good morning to her daddy."

Castle nuzzled into her midriff and she could feel his quiet _good morning baby girl_ against her skin as much as she could hear it, placing a brief kiss there before his gaze rose to meet hers once more, cool blue and serene, calmer than he'd looked all morning. Mission accomplished, courtesy of their child. "I honestly cannot wait to meet this kid."

"Me too," she sighed, gritting her teeth and willing the tears back, no desire to smear her already-applied makeup. Stupid pregnancy hormones.

"Any more thoughts about a name?" he inquired as he rose to his feet and they exited the bathroom together. "I mean, I've got some ideas, but you always seem to think they're too crazy or... what was the word you used the other night? _Exotic_?"

"Castle. We're not naming our daughter 'Gnocchi.'"

"Killjoy," he mumbled as he pulled on a navy blue button-up, the one that she was particularly fond of because it made his eyes pop. "My suggestions are _unique_. You just need to open your mind a little."

"My mind has been opened plenty. I agreed to marry you, didn't I?" she teased, but there was no bite behind it. She stepped forward to smooth his collar, sliding her hands up to latch together behind his neck, her husband's rumble of contentment at feeling her fingers in his hair reverberating from his chest to hers. "But we're definitely not naming our child Gnocchi."

Castle opened his mouth to share what was sure to be the suggestion of a new, more _unique_ name, but he stopped before he could begin, his ringtone piping up from the pocket of his slacks.

"Hold that thought," he murmured as he retrieved the phone and looked at it with a frown.

"What is it?"

He turned the phone around so she could see the screen. Why was someone from the Twelfth Precinct calling him and not her?

"I wonder what trouble I'm in this time," he mused just before answering his phone. "Castle."

* * *

"Hey, what have we got?" Beckett asked as soon as she and Castle ducked under the police tape at the entrance of the alley and Ryan came into view. She didn't often go to crime scenes anymore, so when her husband's presence was specifically requested today, she had to admit that her interest had been piqued.

"We believe the victim is one Lauren Grant. Lanie says that she looks to be in her early twenties. She was found this morning by a woman walking her dog," he explained, signaling to the body of a young woman, covered by a plastic sheet. Dr. Parish was kneeling at one side, examining the corpse and taking notes.

"Do we know the cause of death?" Castle asked her.

"Blunt force trauma to the head," Lanie answered, rising from the position in which she had been examining the body. "She was hit with a some kind of heavy object, but the boys tell me that initial canvassing of the scene has come up empty for a murder weapon. I might have a better idea of what it was when I examine her back at the morgue."

"There are also a few more items missing from the scene," Esposito said, approaching the group with a backpack in his gloved hands. "If the victim had a purse and phone, they're nowhere to be found, and check this out." He opened the backpack and showed them its contents. "Laptop case and charger, but no sign of a laptop."

"Might have been a robbery," Castle concluded.

"We'll see about that," Beckett told them, examining the backpack carefully. "How do we know the victim's name?"

"There was a small notebook with her name on it in her coat pocket," Esposito explained, showing her the item.

"We'll need to confirm her identity more definitively before contacting any family," Beckett remarked, turning to Lanie.

"I'll run her prints as soon as I can and see if there's a match. And I'll confirm her time of death as soon as possible, but judging by body temperature and lividity, I'd say she was killed last night between seven and nine PM."

"Thanks, Lanie," Beckett said, already turning around to leave the scene.

"I'm afraid that's not all," Ryan called after her, a somber expression on his face. "The victim had something else in her backpack."

"That's actually why we called you, Castle," Esposito added, taking a step forward.

"What is it?" the writer asked.

"It's a manuscript," Ryan began, but he had to stop and swallow before continuing. "It's called _Scorching Heat_."

Castle exchanged a confused look with Beckett before accepting the thick stack of paper Ryan held out to him. The title was neatly printed in capital letters on the first page.

"I'm sorry, Castle, but it looks like someone stole the novel you're working on," the detective told him. "We were going to contact your editor, but we wanted to tell you first."

In the silence that followed, Beckett took a step closer to her husband to have a better look at the pages he was perusing with a furrowed brow.

"But... you never wrote a book called _Scorching Heat_ ," she said, looking at the print like she couldn't believe what she was seeing.

Ryan blinked a few times in rapid succession and scratched his head, his gaze fixed on the manuscript the writer was leafing through.

"But we checked it out. The names of the characters, the locations... it really looks authentic."

"Guys, this is not one of my books," Castle interrupted them, a huge grin plastered on his face. "This is fanfiction."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! Stay tuned for Chapter 2, coming tomorrow!_


	2. Chapter 2

Beckett shrugged her jacket off and hung it next to the door when they arrived at her office, while Castle went straight to the couch and plopped down, his eyes scouring the manuscript still in his hands. He'd always known about the existence of original works by amateur writers involving his characters, of course, but he'd made it a rule to not seek them out in the past. Black Pawn's legal team hammered it into their writers that fanfiction was to be avoided due to plagiarism concerns. But now that it was a potential piece of evidence in their case? He pored over it gleefully, absorbing every last word with fascination.

"Ah, the perks of being the Captain: a never-ending pile of paperwork waiting for me on my desk every morning," Beckett said, examining the first page of a document that didn't look very promising.

Castle made a noncommittal grunt, turning a page over.

"Not to mention how stressful it is to supervise the work of dozens of people," she added, looking carefully at her husband to assess his reaction.

He just hummed in response.

"Oh, and the responsibility of choosing my underwear every morning. In fact, I'm not wearing any right now."

"You're doing that thing, the one where you think I'm not paying attention, and you start talking nonsense to prove it," Castle replied, not bothering to raise his eyes from the page in front of him.

"Well, you've been so engrossed in that fic, I'm surprised you didn't bump into anything on our way here," Beckett defended, sitting down behind her desk.

Castle did lift his head at that.

"Fic?" he asked, his head cocked inquisitively and the beginnings of a smirk already forming on his lips.

"Yes, fic. As in fanfiction," she explained, feeling her cheeks warm under his scrutiny.

"Oh, I'm familiar with the term. I'm just surprised you are as well."

Suddenly, the paperwork looked very appealing to Beckett, and she began to leaf through it, avoiding her husband's inquisitive look.

She was saved from having to explain by Esposito, who knocked twice on the doorframe before stepping into the office.

"Hey, Captain, do you have a second?"

"What is it?"

"Ryan is with the victim's parents. They've confirmed her identity. Lauren Grant, 24 years old," he said, showing her a copy of the young woman's ID photo. "She was a graduate student at NYU and living here in the city with a friend."

"Okay, you go talk to the roommate and see if she has any information about Lauren's last movements."

"Got it. Castle, you want to come with?" Esposito offered, but he got no response from the writer, who was nose-deep in the manuscript once more. Beckett couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"Castle," she sing-songed, again with no answer.

"Yo!" Esposito yelled, making the writer jump a couple of inches, and causing him to drop the fanfic. "Interview. Wanna come?"

"Sure, but there's no need to shout," he answered, picking up the stack of paper from the floor and straightening his jacket with an affronted air.

Beckett's chuckle was the only farewell he got on his way to the door.

* * *

Esposito and Castle rounded the corner to the victim's apartment and when they stopped in front of the door, ready to knock, Esposito extended his arm to halt Castle's progress.

"Okay, hit me with it," the detective said.

"Hit you? What are you talking about?" Castle asked, his brow creased in confusion.

"Your dumb theory about this whole thing. Do you know that before this morning, I had no idea what a fanfiction even was? Ryan had to explain it to me. What's _that_ all about? It's just weird, man. And why did our vic have a Nikki Heat fanfiction the size of a novel in her possession? Tell me now so we can interview the victim's roommate in peace."

"First of all: my theories are not 'dumb,' and in fact, they've helped us solve countless cases. And second... I'm drawing a blank. I honestly don't have a theory right now. I'll wait and see what the roommate has to say."

"Suit yourself," Esposito shrugged, knocking. When the door opened, they were met with a young woman who couldn't be more than 25 years old. She looked even younger still, thanks to a round face peppered with freckles, and her big green eyes.

Over the years, Castle had been part of dozens of investigations, and he had been there for the more difficult parts as well, like notifying the victim's friends and family. It was never an easy task, and it always amazed him how compassionate and caring the team of the Twelfth was. That day was no different. Andrea, the victim's roommate and friend, took the news hard, but after a few minutes and a cigarette, she was able to compose herself enough to speak to them.

"I can't wrap my head around it. I mean, I was worried when I realized she didn't come home last night, but I could have never imagined something like this," she said, tears still shimmering on her cheeks.

"When did you realize she wasn't here?" Esposito asked softly.

"A few hours ago. I arrived home late last night, around midnight, I guess. I have a big exam next week, and I was at the library all day, studying. When I came home, I just assumed she was in her room, already asleep. But this morning, I went to talk to her and she wasn't there and her bed hadn't been slept in..." Her voice broke as she trailed off, a fresh wave of tears cascading down her face.

"Was it usual for her to be home and in bed by that time?" Castle questioned.

"I wouldn't really know. She is... was... a very private person. We didn't spend a lot of time just hanging out around the apartment. And when we were both home at the same time, she would normally keep to her room. She spent most of her time in there."

"Do you have any idea what she did in her free time?"

"Not really... I know she has a friend who lives abroad... I'm not sure where. They Skyped pretty regularly. Lauren said she was her best friend."

"Do you know the name of that friend?"

"Not her full name, but Lauren kept a postcard that she sent her on her bulletin board. I can check, if you want."

"That would be great, thank you," Castle smiled.

"And speaking of her friends," Esposito intervened, "did you notice any change in Lauren's behavior lately? Did she start hanging out with any new people, for example?"

"No, not that I'm aware of. We went to class together, so I know most of her friends. And she didn't go out much."

"Do you know of anyone who would want to harm her?"

"No, of course not," Andrea answered as she started to weep again. "Lauren was a nice girl. She mostly kept to herself, but everybody liked her."

"What about her interests?" Castle asked.

"She loved to read, which is practically a must for creative-writing students, but she took it to the next level. She spent hours on end with a book in her hands, or typing away on her laptop. I think that's how she met Sara, her friend. Actually, I don't really know how they met... oh God, I'm a terrible friend, aren't I?"

When Andrea's whole body started to shake uncontrollably with her sobs, Esposito shot Castle a pleading look. He was familiar with those; it was the _you have a daughter, you know what to do, so please do something_ look.

So Castle rested a comforting hand on the girl's shoulder and spoke in a very calm voice.

"You're not a terrible friend. You just received horrible news, so it's difficult to focus on anything else right now, but don't linger on the what ifs. Just give yourself time to mourn your friend in the way you feel you need to, and don't beat yourself up. There's nothing you could have done to save her."

Andrea was inconsolable and barely able to speak coherently at that point, so the two men sat with her for a few moments more, until the sobs gave way to silent tears, and the girl requested some space.

"Here's my card," Esposito said, handing it to her after she retrieved the postcard and escorted them to the door. "Call us if you think of something else, or if you need anything."

And, with a final "I'm sorry for your loss," the door closed behind them.

The duo walked in silence to the police cruiser, and it wasn't until they were halfway back to the precinct that Castle finally found his voice.

"Some days, I'm convinced you guys have the most difficult job in the world."

* * *

"Hey, is it ready?" Ryan asked as he entered the big conference room, two cups of coffee in his hands.

"Nearly. We're just waiting for her to log in and get connected," Vikram explained, accepting the cup Ryan offered him. "Are you sure this is when she was going to call?"

"Yeah, she lives in Spain, so it's nighttime for her. It was the only time she could do it."

"Do you think it's worth the hassle?" Vikram asked Ryan while, they kept staring at the Skype home page.

"What?" the detective asked, puzzled.

"Having a long-distance friendship like that. I'm not sure I would bother going through all the trouble."

"If the other person is your friend, I don't think you see it as trouble," Ryan reasoned.

"Fair enough, but think about it: you can't meet face to face, you can't hang out together, or do the things normal friends do…"

"And what is it what 'normal friends' do? Share common interests? Have meaningful conversations? Have inside jokes? Laugh and cry over the same things? I don't think you need to be face to face to do that," Ryan said shrugging his shoulders while he sipped at his coffee.

The two men turned to the screen once more, both of them sporting a pensive look, until the distinctive sound of an incoming Skype call resonated through the room and the words "Sara Esteban calling" appeared on the monitor.

"Hi, Sara," Ryan greeted as soon as the call connected. "Can you see us?"

"Wait a moment, I can't hear you. Can you hear me?" a voice asked, although the screen only showed a black rectangle. "HELLO?"

"Yes, hi, Sara, we can hear you. Loud and clear. Can you hear us?" Ryan answered, taking an unconscious step towards the monitor.

"Hello? Detective Ryan? Are you there? I think there's something wrong with my connection!" she shouted.

"Sara?"

"Detective?!"

Suddenly, the face of a young woman appeared on the monitor, and Ryan took a step back, letting a relieved sigh break free.

"Hi, Sara, thank you for taking the time speak with us," he said, straightening his jacket once the small box with his own face became visible on the corner of the screen.

"Anything to help you with the investigation," the girl assured, her eyes serious and determined. "Lauren was one of my closest friends. It's the least I can do."

"How did you two meet?" Ryan asked.

"We're both involved in the same fandom. Nikki Heat. We were both very active members, especially Lauren."

"And what kind of things did you do?"

"We'd hang out, mostly. You know, through social media or on Skype. We mostly discussed the Nikki Heat books, or at least that's how we first became acquainted. We eventually turned into really good friends. And we both wrote fanfiction."

"Right, about that... Lauren was carrying a document with her; it looks like a fanfiction story."

"Oh, of course. She had signed up for a workshop about writing crime stories, and they were asking for samples to work on. If I'm not mistaken, you were supposed to bring your own laptop, as well," the girl explained.

"Can you tell us anything about this workshop, like where or when it was happening? We're trying to trace Lauren's last movements."

"Yesterday. At the convention."

"The convention?"

"Yes, the Crime Fiction Convention. You know, CrimeCon. Lauren was attending. I wanted to go too, but I couldn't. We had been talking about it for months."

Ryan turned to Vikram and murmured "Pretty sure that's the event Castle was at yesterday." He turned his attention back to Sara then. "That's really helpful information, thank you. And, I know this is a hard question to answer, but do you know if Lauren had any enemies? Anyone who would want to hurt her?"

"Other than the usual fandom trolls? No, not that I know of. Sorry."

"It's okay, Sara. Thank you so much for your time."

"You're welcome. Please let me know if there's anything else I can do," Sara replied, the fierce look of determination back in her eyes.

"We will," Ryan said, turning to Vikram to signal him to end the call.

"Detective?" she called after him.

"Yes?" Ryan raised a hand to Vikram, telling him to wait.

"What precinct are you from again?"

"The Twelfth."

"Isn't it there where... oh my God, you're Detective Raley!"

* * *

"So check this out. Lauren, aka heatwriter47, was given the MVP Award at the convention. Or, the MVF Award, to be more precise," Esposito said.

"The what now?" Castle asked.

"The Most Valuable Fan."

"And what did she do to deserve such a dubious honor?" Ryan asked.

"Hey! Don't mock my admirers," Castle exclaimed. "They're the reason I'm here."

"Apparently, she was a 'very active member of the fandom,'" Esposito continued, ignoring the outburst and reading from the convention webpage, as Castle, Beckett, and Ryan gathered around his desk. "She had a Tumblr blog and a Twitter account, both of them dedicated to discussing your books, writer boy."

"I'm flattered," Castle said, no trace of humor in his voice.

"Okay, hold on. I don't understand," Esposito said, leaning back on his chair and looking at each of them. "Can someone please break this down for me? What exactly is a fandom? Ryan tried to explain fanfiction to me earlier, but the whole concept is beyond me."

"A fandom is a group of people with the same cultural interests, who generally use social media platforms to communicate and talk about their shared enthusiasm," Beckett summed up.

"What she said," Ryan nodded. "And they don't just talk about it. They write about it, make videos, edit pictures, and stuff like that."

"Gotcha," Esposito nodded. "But how exactly can they communicate with each other? Isn't Tumblr a blog, or something like that?"

"Exactly," Castle answered.

"Then, how is it interactive? I mean, can you message other members?"

"Of course. You can follow different blogs, and their latest publications appear on your dashboard, so it's easier to navigate them," Ryan explained.

"And how do you know this?" his partner inquired, eyes narrowed.

"I live out in the real world, not in a cave. Plus, I do a lot of reading," the Irish detective shrugged.

"So... our victim, Lauren, had both a Tumblr and a Twitter account under the same username, heatwriter47. And she also wrote fanfiction. So, how does someone do that? I mean, _where_ do they do that? How do other people see their work?"

"There are websites specifically dedicated to publishing fanfiction," Beckett explained.

"But you can also post fics on Tumblr, right?" Ryan questioned.

"Of course," she answered. "You can post any kind of media to your blog. Some people prefer to do it that way, actually."

"Right. That way, it's easier for your followers to reblog it, and it can reach more people," he nodded.

"But I get the feeling that most people publish their fics on Fanfiction dot net or Archive of Our Own, and use Tumblr and Twitter for advertising purposes, to promote their work," Beckett pondered.

The two of them fell silent then, and they must have sensed that something was amiss, because they slowly turned their heads towards the remaining members of their team. Esposito was looking at them like they had each grown two heads, his arms crossed defensively across his chest, while Castle looked like the cat who ate the canary. Oh, he was going to have so much fun later, what with his wife's vast knowledge and indirect admission about reading fanfiction.

"Anyway..." Esposito continued with a Beckett-esque eye roll, as if the last part of the conversation hadn't occurred. "It's true that Lauren was popular in the Nikki Heat fandom. She seemed to be especially close with inlovewithrooksbutt, ilovepage105, and nooki4life," he read from his notebook.

"Can you repeat the first one, please? I didn't catch that," Castle said, his face contorted with his efforts to not crack up at the pseudonyms.

"Inlovewithrooksbutt," the detective complied.

"And what was that last one again?" Ryan said, his eyes watering and lips quivering with suppressed laughter.

"Nook- oh, very funny," he harrumphed at the chorus of guffaws that erupted around him.

"Uh, guys, I think I found something of interest," Vikram interrupted, handing Beckett a folder with a few pieces of paper jutting out. "Lauren had been receiving some pretty nasty messages on her Tumblr account recently. Looks like she had some vicious reviewers on Fanfiction dot net as well."

"How nasty? Is it the usual harmless Internet hate?" Castle asked, wiping some tears from the corners of his eyes.

"Most of it looks that way, but there were some messages that I thought you would want to see," Vikram explained, signaling the folder in Beckett's hands. She passed around the pages to the people gathered around Esposito's desk.

"'Why don't you shut your stuck-up mouth? The world would be a better place without your stupid face,'" Castle read out loud. "Your was spelled Y-O-U-apostrophe-R-E both times. I'm not even going to comment on the terrible spelling."

"Check out this one," Ryan interjected. "'You ugly, stupid carrot-face. Go burn in hell.'"

"Well, having a carrot face does seem like a strong motive for murder, doesn't it?" Esposito joked in a dry tone.

"Wait a second guys, listen to this," Beckett held up a hand to silence them. "'I'm watching you. I know where you live and I hope you end up like one of Nikki's victims: dead in an alleyway.' That's both creepy and incredibly specific to our crime scene. Do we know who this message came from?" Beckett inquired.

"That's what I wanted to tell you," Vikram said. "All of them were sent anonymously-"

"Of course," Castle scoffed, his eyes still scanning the printed pages.

"-but we were able to track almost all of them to a single IP address, including that last one."

"Wait, so most of them were sent by the same person?" Ryan questioned, skimming the extensive collection of messages.

"The ones I printed for you, yes," Vikram clarified. "The woman in question has Twitter and Tumblr accounts, as well. And guess what?"

He showed them the tablet he was carrying, where a tweet was displayed.

 _Police procedure workshop is about to begin! #soexcited #CrimeCon_

"She's in town."


	3. Chapter 3

Castle and Beckett held hands loosely as they climbed the front stairs of the hotel, but there was no obvious sign of the convention as they approached the massive revolving doors.

"Are you sure this is the right place?" Beckett asked.

It was at that moment that they crossed paths with a man wearing a James Patterson hoodie. Castle just scoffed in response.

"Never mind," she said, smiling.

Not ten seconds later, the last of her doubts were erased when they entered the lobby, where several huge posters and banners with the word _CrimeCon_ hung from the ceiling to the floor.

"It's this way." Castle pointed to a giant arrow plastered to the wall, with the word _Convention_ written on it.

Beckett followed her husband around the corner to the door, where a member of the staff intercepted them, and just when Beckett was about to flash her badge to skip the line, the man recognized Castle, and let them in. Ignoring the writer's satisfied little smirk, she marched into the massive ballroom, stopping briefly once inside to take it all in.

"Wow. They really went all out with this one, didn't they?" she muttered.

The place was huge and completely decked out for the convention; it was heavily decorated with fake police tape, not to mention about a hundred vendors and a couple of stands devoted to photo ops with the famous authors in attendance, complete with all sorts of props, from plastic knifes to magnifying glasses. There had to be at least a thousand people present who were making their way through the different booths, many of which had blackboards that proudly advertised their wares for sale, written with what looked like fake blood.

A number of people were cosplaying, wearing the elaborate costumes of different characters from crime mysteries. There were quite a few women in blazers with faux badges on their hips, whom Beckett assumed were Nikkis (which would always be a little disconcerting to her) and at least half a dozen Derrick Storms roaming around. In addition to the costumes, a lot of people were wearing hoodies and t-shirts with slogans and pictures in keeping with the theme of the convention.

The sight was a familiar one to both Castle and Beckett, as they'd both attended conventions and fan events very similar to this one in the past. However, as soon as they set foot in the room, heads began to turn.

There were plenty of people who didn't recognize them initially, of course, but there were enough in-the-know fans present, and they seemed happy to fill the others in on who they were. Soon enough, whispers and excited laughs began to fill the air, the volume of the chatter around them increasing by the second.

Knowing it was just a matter of time before they got bombarded by Castle's devotees, Beckett continued her path toward the smaller meeting room where they hoped to find their suspect, hearing more than seeing her husband trotting to catch up with her. She felt his hand on the small of her back at the same moment she saw the first smartphone pointed at them.

"Three, two, one..." he whispered in her ear.

"Mr. Castle! Hey!"

"Is that Nikki?"

"Oh my God, she's pregnant! _Nikki is pregnant!_ "

A chorus of deafening squeals and exclamations rose around them, and in a matter of seconds, the duo was surrounded by eager fans trying desperately to get a selfie or an autograph.

After answering - or dodging, in Beckett's case - what felt like a hundred questions, posing for at least several dozen pictures and receiving a few _very_ enthusiastic hugs, Beckett grabbed Castle by the arm and started leading him away from the gaggle of admirers, while he told a young girl for the third time that their child's name wouldn't be Nooki, the fan nickname for the fictional couple formed by Nikki Heat and Jameson Rook.

"But think about it, it could work for both a boy _or_ a girl!" the girl yelled from the distance.

"We'll keep that in mind," Castle assured her over his shoulder, finally starting to make progress on their way to the room where the police procedure workshop was taking place.

To say the people attending the seminar were surprised to see them was an understatement. The stunned silence with which they were received was only broken when the person in charge of the activity intercepted them.

"Mr. Castle, what are you…I mean, this is a wonderful surprise to have you both here, but were we expecting you?" he stammered, his eyes darting back and forth between the two of them.

"No, and we're sorry for barging in like this," Castle said. "We're here to speak to Jane Alexander."

The young woman in question hopped out of her chair and beamed at them, looking delighted at having been picked out of the crowd.

"Is this about the fan contest? Did I win?" she exclaimed, obviously elated to have them there, if the way she couldn't stop smiling was any indication.

"I'm afraid not," Beckett said, drawing the girl's attention away from the writer. "Can you please step out and accompany us to the station?" she asked, flashing her badge at Jane when she'd gotten her full attention. The girl's smile dropped instantaneously. "We have some questions for you."

* * *

They watched Jane through the one-way glass for a few minutes, the young woman squirming uncomfortably in the hard metal chair. Beckett observed her carefully, looking for twitches and tells that she could use to her advantage when they questioned her. Castle, on the other hand, was still grumbling about the fans who had stopped them on their way out of the con to share their opinions on why Nikki Heat was superior to Derrick Storm.

"I'm just saying, you can't compare the two, Beckett! Entirely different characters, on every level. I mean, yeah, they're both 'good guys'," he contended, along with some exaggerated air quotes. "But seriously, apples and oranges." He finished with a huff and crossed his arms over his chest defiantly.

"Why are you so bent out of shape about this, Castle? So you have a couple of fans who prefer Nikki to Derrick. So what?"

" _So what_? How can you ask me that? My characters mean a lot to me. I invest a lot of myself in their stories. I'd written books before the Storm series, but he really launched my career. I might be in love with Nikki, but in some ways, Derrick will always be my boy," Castle sighed dejectedly.

Beckett felt a surge of sympathy for him; she knew how much Castle cared about his writing, and how much time and consideration he put into crafting honest, compelling, imperfect characters. He wanted people to be able to see themselves in those roles, to ask themselves what they'd do under similar circumstances. His vision of humanity, both its strengths and flaws, was one of the qualities that first drew her to his writing.

"Castle, hey. Look at me." She reached out and took one of his hands, lacing their fingers together and squeezing her love for him and his passion into his skin. "Millions of people love your characters, _all_ of them. Your book sales are proof of that. But, they're allowed to have a preference. For what it's worth, I think Rook is one of your most captivating characters."

He looked at her with curiosity in his eyes, urging her to continue. "In what way?"

"Well, first of all, Rook is more relatable. He's a regular guy with a pretty cool day job, sure, but he doesn't have any special training. He's not some über-spy who can kill someone with his bare hands, but he's got a sharp mind and he's one hell of a writer," she said with a sly grin. "And second, I wouldn't give Storm the time of day. I've met too many men like him: smartass supermen who think they own the world. But Jameson Rook? Sure, he's cocky, but he's not perfect. He's not as intrepid, or badass..."

"Hey!"

"...but I'd marry him in a heartbeat. He's you, Castle. That's why I love him."

Castle could only smile sheepishly, nodding at her in understanding. "Point taken."

"C'mon then, let's do this." And with that, she tugged on their joined hands and started in the direction of the interrogation room.

Jane appeared more like a timid girl than a young woman, looking very small sitting at the table in the interrogation room, her shoulders hunched and her hands shaking. She nearly jumped when the door opened and Castle and Beckett entered the room. They'd been nominated to conduct the interview when everyone realized they might get more out of her, what with her being a fan of Castle's writing and all.

"What is this about?" she asked them as soon as they took their places in front of her.

"Did you know Lauren Grant, Jane?" Beckett asked without preamble.

"Who?"

Beckett didn't answer, and simply placed a photo of the victim on the table before her in reply. Jane's eyes widened slightly in recognition, but she said nothing.

"We found some very menacing messages on her Tumblr and fanfiction accounts," Beckett continued, sliding the printouts towards the girl. "Messages _you_ sent her, claiming that she was worth nothing. That she should die."

"Yes, okay, fine. I won't deny it," the girl answered at last, her voice shaking. "But that's what people do on the Internet. It's no big deal."

There was a pause in which nobody spoke, until Castle cleared his throat. "Actually, that's not true, Jane. Those are hate messages, some of which can be interpreted as threats."

"I don't understand... it was just trash talk. People do that in fandom sometimes. It didn't mean anything," Jane said.

"Oh, but we believe it wasn't just talk," Beckett replied. "Especially considering Lauren was found dead this morning."

" _What_?" All the color drained from her face, and for a moment, the young woman looked as if she was about to faint. "But... wait, do you think I...? No, I swear! I didn't do anything to her!"

"You threatened her, bullied her online for months, and you attended the same convention on the same day she was murdered."

"No, no, I swear!" Jane's cheeks reddened, and she looked at them, frantic, pleading. "I had nothing to do with it!"

Beckett and Castle just stared at her, waiting in silence to see if she would break down and admit something more. Their strategy worked. The girl seemed to deflate before their eyes, and silent tears began to drip down her chin.

"It's true, I sent those messages. I was jealous of her. Everyone loved her, and she was very popular, and I thought she didn't deserve it. That's why I sent them anonymously, to make her see. But I didn't kill her, I promise."

"So, where were you between seven and nine last night?" Beckett asked.

The girl shot a confused look at Castle before returning her attention to Beckett.

"We... we were at the convention."

"We?"

"Yes, me... and him," she said, motioning towards the writer.

"Excuse me?" he spat, straightening in his chair.

Jane fished her phone out of her pocket and pressed a button. There, on the lockscreen, was a picture of herself posing with Castle, displayed with pride.

"I was at the photo session last night. I got in line with some friends around six-thirty. It was supposed to be finished around nine, but it started late and the line was longer than expected, so we were there until almost ten," she explained.

Beckett looked more closely at the picture, and she could plainly see Castle was wearing the same clothes as the previous night. She nodded at Jane, handing the phone back to her.

"We'll need the names of the friends you were with, and we'll be checking the hotel security cameras, just to make sure you didn't sneak out," she warned.

"I didn't," she promised, and Castle and Beckett were halfway out of their seats when she spoke up again. "But heatwriter47, I mean Lauren, did. She was in line ahead of me, but she left without getting her picture taken."

"How do you know it was Lauren?" Castle questioned. "I thought you didn't know her personally, but you recognized her picture when we showed it to you, and you recognized her at the convention. How do you know what she looked like?"

Jane sighed in exasperation.

"She's posting selfies all the time. I follow her on Instagram and Snapchat, too."

"Right, of course," Castle said, nodding, while Beckett tried to suppress a smile. She always found it amusing when he made a technology-related slip. He was sure that, had they been alone, she would be cracking a joke about his age and being too old for platforms like Snapchat. "So, any idea why she left?"

"I'm guessing it had something to do with the guy she was talking to."

"The guy?" Beckett inquired.

"Yeah, I could see them at the entrance to the ballroom from the line," Jane explained to them. "It looked like they were arguing. It seemed like he was trying to convince her to leave with him."

"So you think they knew each other?"

"I suppose so. I mean, I thought he might be her boyfriend or something. It looked like they left together in the end."

"Would you be able to describe the boy to a sketch artist?"

"Sure." Jane fell silent for a moment, and then, she looked at them with a spark in her eye. "Do you know what I think? I think she was into something dangerous, something dark, you know?"

"What makes you say that?" Beckett asked, leaning unconsciously towards her.

"I don't know. It's a better story," the girl shrugged.

At that, Castle had to fake a cough to hide his laugh, while Beckett rose from her chair with an epic eye roll.

While he followed her through the door, Castle could have sworn he heard her mutter "like writer, like fan."

* * *

Castle grew uncharacteristically quiet after Jane's interrogation, until he was reduced to single syllables and grunts of agreement by the time they made their way home that evening. He picked at the dinner they worked side-by-side to prepare, assuring her that he was fine when she asked him what was on his mind.

But when he turned down his favorite potato chip fudge ice cream after dinner (which he had taken to keeping stocked in their freezer since the start of her pregnancy), she knew it was time to speak up. She plopped down next to him on the couch, snuggling into his side and taking his hand in hers.

"Listen, Rick, you know I'll give you space here if that's what you really want. God knows I'm the queen of pushing people away when I probably need them most." That managed to get a laugh out of him; they both knew of her notorious obstinance all too well. "But I know you, and I know that something is weighing on you, and I just...I want you to know that I'm here if you want to talk about it."

He shook his head, hesitant to continue. "I'm not trying to shut you out, Kate, I promise. I'm... I worry it's gonna sound silly."

"Sillier than killer zombies and invisible men?"

"Touché, Beckett." He took a deep breath before continuing, and she had to dig her nails into her thigh to keep herself from reaching out and smoothing her fingers across his creased brow. "I've been thinking about Lauren, about her participation in the Nikki Heat fandom. And I can't help but wonder... is that what got her killed? Was being a fan of my books what ultimately put her in danger?"

"Oh, god, no! Rick, how could you think that?"

"How can I not? It seems like her involvement and her popularity made her a target for animosity. I... I..." he trailed off, grappling to find the right words, and she squeezed his knee in encouragement. "I know what it's like to be targeted by critics, Kate, but I have the advantage of my previous successes to bolster me. I have the luxury of being able to ignore the people who look to tear me down, but Lauren? She was bullied by her peers and by people who claimed to love the same things as her. What does that do to a person's confidence?"

"I honestly can't imagine, babe. But you bear no responsibility for what happened to that young woman. And you know what? I'll even go so far as to say her participation in that fandom enriched her life in the end, and you are responsible for _that_. There's this camaraderie that's been built because of your stories. Readers find joy and solace in your books, and then they can share those feelings with other like-minded people. Castle, your novels brought them together. They've gained friendships and inspiration because of you. I don't know what we'll find when we finally track down Lauren's killer, but one thing I can say for sure: the Nikki Heat fandom, and by extension, you, are in no way to blame for what happened to her. That's completely on the person who took her life."

The smile he gave her in response wasn't the full-wattage version she was used to, but it was genuine and grateful. "You sure you're not a therapist, Beckett? 'Cause you're awfully good at these pep talks."

"Just chalk it up to years of perfecting the art of stroking your ego."

That earned her a crow of laughter, and she was grateful to see him getting back to his usual, gregarious self. "Oh, I can think of _plenty_ of other things that you can stroke..." He pinned her with an intense gaze, and she felt butterflies erupt in her belly. Maybe they could salvage the rest of the night after all.

"And I'm game, however... not to put a damper on your improved mood, but I have to tell you that Gina called when you were changing earlier."

Castle groaned loud and long at that, his head flopping back onto the couch. "Calling about _Heat Storm_ , no doubt. Damn this writer's block, Kate. And damn my ex-wife for reminding me of it tonight."

"She's just doing her job, Castle. And to be honest, she genuinely seemed more interested in your well-being than in the status of the book. She even asked me how you'd been lately."

"Uh oh, Gina showed concern for me? She must really want me to get this book finished," he added with a healthy dose of snark.

Kate slapped him on the chest at his cheekiness. "Oh, stop it. She knows you've been through a lot, that we both have. You're working through it, but that work takes time."

"I wish that felt like enough. Ugh! When will this damn block be done with me?"

Kate pushed herself up and off the couch then, extending her hand to her husband in invitation and pulling him in the direction of their bedroom. "It'll happen when it happens, and not a moment before. Be patient with yourself, babe. And in the meantime, why don't you take your wife to bed and make love to her?" she added with a backward glance and a seductive smile.

"You had me at take your wife to bed."


	4. Chapter 4

Kevin Ryan had always liked the precinct in the early mornings, when no one else was around and the typical hustle and bustle of a busy police day had yet to kick in. It was then that he could do his best work and focus on the case, when all the details seemed fresh after a good night's sleep, and the connections between the different elements became easier to spot.

But that day, his thoughts were somewhere else entirely.

"Earth to Ryan, are you there?" Esposito greeted, clapping him on the back. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry. I was distracted. Good morning."

"What has you so worried?"

"The kids' daycare raised their rates. Again."

"Listen, Kevin, I've told you before, if you need any help-" Esposito began, but he was cut off by Ryan.

"I know, and I'm grateful, man. I really am. But it's not that. It's just... have you heard anything about the Sergeant's exam? They were supposed to tell us when we could retake it, but there's been no word yet..."

"Sorry, bro. I haven't heard anything either, but hey! Don't worry, they told us it wouldn't take long."

"Yeah, I hope you're right," Ryan murmured, his eyes unfocused and his mind miles away, while Esposito could only sigh and clap him on the back once more.

"Good morning, guys!" A chipper voice greeted from behind them, and the detectives turned to see Castle and Beckett exiting the elevator.

"Any news?" Beckett asked, her ability to fall straight to work mode shining through, as usual.

"Yeah," Esposito answered. "We have an ID for the guy witnesses saw arguing with Lauren. We spoke to her roommate again, and she confirmed that he used to be involved with our vic, but that he wasn't her boyfriend."

"Excellent," Beckett commended. "We need to pick him up; I'd like to speak with him."

"Already on it," Ryan said, snapping out of his pensive mood, his head back in the game, while he made his way to the elevator, Esposito in tow.

* * *

Castle had to admit that the young man sitting across from him in the interrogation room looked the part of the 'casual' boyfriend, totally in keeping with how Lauren's roommate had described the relationship. Leaning back in his chair, his hair carefully messy, and his clothes mismatched in that perfect way that can only be the result of intense planning, everything about Brian James screamed deliberate nonchalance. And once they moved on from the pleasantries and the presentation of the case, Castle and Beckett found that everything that came out of his mouth sounded every bit like the cliché he appeared to be.

"So, you're telling us that you went to the convention to see Lauren, but only because she asked you to," Beckett summarized, pinching the bridge of her nose in an exasperated gesture she had adopted when she was feeling frustrated.

"Exactly," he nodded.

"Then, what were you arguing about?" Castle asked.

"We didn't argue," Brian replied flippantly, although his posture shifted then, less relaxed than it had been a moment before.

"That's not what we've heard," Beckett told him. "According to our witnesses, you were seen arguing at the entrance of the hotel. In fact, several people saw you two fighting."

"That's not true," Brian defended, although it didn't sound nearly as convincing as he had intended.

"I don't think lying to us is a good idea for you right now, Brian," Beckett advised. "As far as we can tell, you were the last person to see Lauren alive, so that makes you our primary suspect."

"But I wasn't! I couldn't have been! There were tons of people at the convention! One of them must had seen her. I left alone, I promise!"

"And why did you go to the convention?"

"I'm a big fan," the boy claimed, almost defensively.

"Of what?" Castle asked.

"Of those books Lauren used to love."

"So, you're a fan, and yet you don't know the titles of _those_ books?" Beckett asked in disbelief.

"Yes, of course, the... the... _Heat_ books," Brian almost shouted, obviously proud of having remembered the name, if his smug smile was any indication. "Lauren was going to meet the author, and I wanted to go as well."

Castle and Beckett exchanged an amused smile, and remained silent for a couple of moments, savoring the moment. Brian must had sensed that something was amiss, because he tried to regain their attention.

"Huge fan," he reiterated, nodding enthusiastically.

"Let me get this straight..." Beckett began. "You are a 'huge fan' of the _Heat_ books, and you wanted to meet the author."

"Yes, I love her..." Out of the corner of his eye, he must have seen Castle shaking his head, because he hastened to correct himself. "Him! I love him! He's great, and I wanted to meet him."

"Well then, this is your lucky day, Brian, because that can be arranged," Beckett stated calmly. "Brian, meet Richard Castle, author of the _Nikki Heat_ and _Derrick Storm_ series."

The way Brian's eyes opened wildly would have been hilarious, if Castle wasn't so worried that they might pop out of his skull altogether.

"It's always a pleasure to meet such a devoted fan as yourself, Brian," he said enthusiastically, before letting his chipper tone drop. "Now, why don't you stop lying and tell us what you really were doing at the convention?"

"Fine, whatever... I went to see Lauren," the boy admitted, not daring to look them in the eye, his posture hunched and defeated. "I got us tickets for a movie. I wanted to show her how I can be a good boyfriend, if she'd give me a chance."

"So, you weren't actually a couple, then," Castle summed up.

Brian sighed deeply, and met his eyes at last. "Kind of. We'd been seeing each other for a while, but it wasn't anything serious."

"But not because you didn't want that, right, Brian?" Beckett asked softly, the boy's admission seeming to placate her.

"Yeah. I wanted to be in a relationship with her. Officially."

"Why were you arguing last night?" Castle inquired.

"She didn't want to come with me to the movie. She wanted to stay to get a picture, or maybe it was an autograph, or something like that. We argued about it, but in the end, I went to the movie alone. Pathetic, right?"

"So why did you lie to us?"

"You said it yourself: I was the last person to see Lauren alive," Brian shrugged. "And I know a lot of people saw us arguing. I might not read crime novels, but I know what a suspect looks like."

"What happened after that?" Castle asked. "Did you see Lauren leaving the hotel?"

"I don't know. I walked out and didn't look back," Brian's own words sank in, and he seemed to shrink in his seat. "It was the last time I was ever going to see her, and I didn't look back."

* * *

Lunchtime found Castle and Beckett staring intently at the whiteboard, as if willing the truth to make itself known.

"So far, we have three suspects, but all of them have strong alibis," Castle commented. "Andrea, Lauren's roommate, was at the library. Security cameras confirm that she arrived at four-thirty and left close to midnight."

"And Jane, the 'enemy' from the fandom, was at the photo session, the same one the victim was supposed to attend. There are multiple witnesses who confirmed it," Beckett continued.

"Lastly, Brian, the not-so-serious boyfriend, went to the movies by himself, as we saw in the security footage from the theater," Castle finished the review, looking as glum as he sounded.

"None of them could have done it, and we haven't been able to identify anyone else who would have wanted to hurt Lauren," Beckett summed up.

"And yet, I have the feeling that we're missing something."

"Maybe, maybe not," Beckett said, at which Castle shot her an incredulous look. "Think about it: her belongings were missing from the scene. I hate to say it, but maybe it _was_ just a robbery gone wrong after all."

"I don't know, Beckett. Something doesn't add up. I'm not convinced," Castle replied, running a hand down his face in a frustrated gesture.

"And for a good reason," a voice called from behind them. Castle and Beckett turned to find Detective Ryan leaning casually on the wall, smiling proudly.

"We just found the victim's purse and laptop in a dumpster four blocks away from the crime scene," he announced.

"See?" Castle exclaimed in triumph. "I told you it wasn't a robbery!"

"But that's not all," Ryan took a pause for dramatic effect before continuing. "We also found the victim's fan award."

"And what's so important about that?" Beckett inquired.

"Didn't I mention it? It's covered in blood. It looks like we have our murder weapon."


	5. Chapter 5

"Thank you so much for coming, Andrea," Beckett greeted, motioning the girl to sit on one of the couches of the conference room, while she and Castle took a seat opposite her.

"How are you holding up?" Castle asked politely, a warm smile on his face.

"As well as could be expected, I suppose," Andrea answered, her puffy eyes an unequivocal sign that she had been crying. "The apartment feels so empty without her…"

"I can only imagine how hard that must be," Beckett told her in a soothing tone. "But maybe we can help. We have new information regarding Lauren's murder."

The girl shot them a look of shock mixed with fear in equal measure.

"What... what is it?"

"We didn't tell you this when we met with you the first time," Castle started to explain, "but a few of Lauren's belongings were missing from the scene."

"Oh, so, it was a robbery, then?" Andrea inquired.

"You know, at first, that's what we thought as well. But luckily, all of those items were recovered earlier today," Beckett announced, and she proceeded to list all of the objects that were pulled from the nearby dumpster, including the murder weapon. Andrea's right eyelid started to twitch, and she wiped a drop of sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand.

"But our findings are puzzling," Castle continued. "Apparently, the killer was careful to wipe all fingerprints from the items, but failed to dispose of the objects further away from the murder scene."

"That tells us the murder wasn't planned, and it definitely wasn't perpetrated by an experienced criminal," Beckett explained. "Sadly, we couldn't recover any evidence from the murder weapon to point us in the direction of the killer."

"So, if you have no idea who did it, why did you call me?" Andrea inquired, after a pause.

"I didn't say that," Beckett informed her, her tone as conciliatory as ever. "I just said we didn't find any evidence on the murder weapon."

"The contents of Lauren's laptop, however, were most interesting," Castle commented with a friendly smile.

"Did you know Lauren was accepted for an internship at a big publishing house?" Beckett questioned.

"I... I think she mentioned something, yes," Andrea stammered.

"Mentioned? Funny, we were under the impression you two applied together, right, Beckett?"

"Yes, I recall seeing both applications on Lauren's computer," she confirmed, exchanging a nod with Castle.

"Okay, fine, we applied together, and she got it," the girl confirmed. "But that doesn't mean anything. I didn't do anything to her."

"Really?" Castle asked, feigning surprise. "Even after you found out she had been bad-mouthing you to their human resources department?"

"I... I don't know what you're talking about," Andrea mumbled.

"We're talking about this," Beckett said, handing the girl a few pieces of paper. "These are the emails Lauren exchanged with them. We found them on her laptop, sent from a different email address than the one she usually used. That's why we missed them at first."

"I've never seen these before," the girl denied, trying to return the papers to Beckett, but she wouldn't take them.

"That's not what the representative from the company told us when we spoke to them a little while ago," Castle explained. "According to them, they had second thoughts about giving the internship to Lauren after they realized how underhanded her behavior had been. They decided to come clean with you about what she'd done."

"They sent you an email explaining everything about thirty minutes before Lauren was killed," Beckett told her, her voice now cold as ice, as she produced another piece of paper from her folder and thrust it into the young woman's hands. "I don't believe in coincidences."

"You knew she was at the convention, so you went there to confront her," Castle said.

"But I have an alibi. I was at the library all day," Andrea defended. "They have a security camera at the door. You can check it."

"We did," Beckett assured. "It's true that you entered the building around four-thirty and came out at midnight."

"So how can you accuse me?"

"Because, as you pointed out, the camera is at the front door," Beckett explained.

"And you were aware of that," Castle intervened. "But we did a little asking around at the library. Turns out, there's a back door that's often used when people want to have a smoke during study breaks. And you, being a smoker, would have known that."

"What you didn't know," Beckett informed the girl, raising her voice slightly and growing more determined, "is that back door is right across the street from an ATM, whose security camera registered you leaving the library in a hurry at 7:43 P.M., and returning about an hour later, looking very shaken."

"You went to confront Lauren," Castle said, his eyes hard now, his voice demanding. "You found her at the convention and accused her. Maybe she was embarrassed, or tried to placate you, but somehow, you ended up in the alley behind the hotel, surely to escape prying eyes."

Andrea was shaking now, silent tears streaming down her face, unable to meet their eyes.

"You probably didn't go there intending to hurt her, but you were beyond angry by that point," Beckett resumed the narration. "And there she was, enjoying herself, an award in her hands. And you couldn't think of anyone less deserving of a prize."

"So you took the award, and without thinking, hit her over the head with it," Castle continued. "When you realized what you had done, it was too late, and you panicked. You took her laptop and her purse, trying to make it look like a robbery, and ran away."

"It was a smart move," Beckett complimented. "And you almost had us fooled. If only you hadn't thrown everything away so close to the scene. Had you walked just a few more blocks to dispose of it all, we probably wouldn't have found it, and it would have looked like a simple robbery attempt gone wrong."

"But... you said there were no fingerprints on her belongings, or evidence on the weapon. How can you prove that I didn't go out the back door to get a coffee, or just to take a walk?" Andrea's eyes darted between them frantically, her voice desperate.

"Because your nicotine addiction isn't just bad for your health, Andrea. It's bad for your alibi. Your fingerprints were found on a empty pack of cigarettes that was in the dumpster next to Lauren's belongings. I recognized them as the same brand you were smoking yesterday. Apparently, you needed a smoke to calm your nerves after killing your roommate," Castle concluded, and that's when her facade of innocence truly crumbled.

"Please, you don't understand..." the young woman pleaded. "It was an accident, I didn't mean to kill her!"

"But you did," Beckett said, standing up and signaling the girl to do the same. "Andrea Higgins, you're under arrest for the murder of Lauren Grant."

* * *

When Beckett walked into the ballroom that was hosting Castle's panel, the event was already in full swing. The space was jam-packed, with quite a few people who had settled for standing-room-only admission lining the walls. There were a handful of writers sitting on the dais, and she was pleased to see some familiar faces alongside her husband, Alex Conrad to one side of him and Dennis Lehane on the other. In the middle of each aisle was a microphone with about a dozen people queued up, waiting to ask their questions. And not surprisingly, most of them were being directed at Castle.

She watched with pride as he addressed a fan in a Nikki Heat t-shirt at the front of the line about staging the more complicated action scenes in book, specifically Nikki's race through a snowy Central Park as she tried to make it to Belvedere Castle in Heat Rises.

"I knew I had to make the circumstances as dire as possible without venturing into impossibility or ridiculousness," he explained. "The key for me was actually going down to the area where the scene was to be located, actually walking the paths I have Nikki walk, knowing how far it was from one hiding spot to the next, what obstacles she would face getting there, but also the areas where she could lie in wait and use those places to her advantage."

Beckett looked around the room, the faces in the audience riveted on him as he spoke, absorbing his explanation with fascination. He really did know how to work a crowd.

"Of course, for all of the technical police jargon and procedure, I had an amazing guide to help me. In fact, she turned out to be so amazing, I've written eight books about her. Married her, too."

He turned to her and winked then, which didn't go unnoticed by the crowd, several hundred heads swiveling in her direction all at once. She didn't even realize he had seen her come in, and she blushed furiously but waved to the group as Castle proceeded to introduce her as Kate Beckett, my phenomenal wife and Nikki's real-life inspiration to huge cheers and a round of applause.

When the crowd settled down once more, the next attendee stepped up to the mic.

"Hey, this is a question for Mr. Castle. My name is Dan, and I'm a big fan of all your books. I've been writing on and off for years. I started off writing fanfiction, and I've been working on more original material lately. I'd really like to make a career out of it, but I've struggled with writer's block a bunch of times, and I'm scared of what that means to me as a writer. Like, maybe I'm not cut out for it? I'm wondering what you think."

Beckett held her breath for a moment, because this was exactly the kind of question she knew Castle had been fearful of due to his own recent struggles. She watched as he paused and lowered his head for a moment, appearing to be deep in thought, but when he raised his gaze to the audience again, he looked... thoughtful. Serene. She didn't know how she knew it, she just knew: _he's got this_.

"You know, Dan, that's a great question, and I'm glad you asked it. Because the truth is, every writer, whether you're just starting out or you've been doing it for years, is going to get hit with a brutal case of writer's block at some point. I'll be honest with you guys, I've had my own struggles with it over the years, and I think what I've realized is that it's a natural part of creativity. Inspiration ebbs and flows, the once-unstoppable flood of words evaporates, and the well of your imagination feels like it's run dry. But that doesn't mean you're not talented, and it doesn't mean your days of writing are over. Take my word for it... I've been there." He paused again, and Beckett could practically see the gears in his mind moving as he considered what he wanted to say next. "In fact, I've had a terrible case of writer's block lately. I'm sitting here in front of you guys, a living, breathing example that it happens, even to those of us who do this for a living."

Mumbles and murmurs broke out through the crowd at his declaration. Apparently, a writer as prolific as Richard Castle admitting to writer's block was a big deal.

Castle broke in before the crowd could get too noisy, and they all settled down again. "But let me tell you something, Dan, and I really want you to take this to heart. Having writer's block doesn't make you any less of a writer. There can be any number of legitimate reasons for feeling blocked. Sometimes, that thing you so loved writing about just doesn't evoke the same excitement for you anymore. The ideas don't fight their way out of you and onto the page like they used to. I've been there.

"Derrick Storm was my go-to character for years. How many books did I write about him in the end? Eleven? But my passion for writing him suddenly dried up without explanation, and I just felt... stuck. There were days I feared I'd never write again. My publisher was breathing down my neck for new work, my own mother was making jokes about how I was spending my days idle, my daughter was worried about me. My personal life was a mess at the time. I felt like I was going nowhere, fast."

His voice had grown quiet, but it hadn't lost any of its strength. Kate knew this man inside and out, knew how he'd struggled with writer's block, knew about the flood of inspiration she'd brought back to his life. She was so very proud of him, and so proud to have played that role for him. But right now, she wondered if she'd ever felt this level of pride in him, as he shared his struggles with the people who looked up to him. He was being absolutely, utterly human.

"I honestly thought my career might be over. I'm a writer, it's how I define myself, how I've built and measured my successes. And all I could think was, who am I if I don't have this? If I don't write anymore? It was low time for me, Dan. I can only tell you, inspiration came walking back into my life at the most unexpected time and place. I just had to have an open mind and be willing to let it in when it finally appeared. I also had to be escorted to a police station to be questioned about a homicide, but that's a story for another time."

A burst of laughter rippled through the crowd; Castle's fans knew the story of how he came to shadow Beckett backwards and forwards.

"The point I'm trying to make, to all of you writers sitting in the audience, is that you're going to feel blocked at some point. But if you have the talent, and if you have the determination, you will break through it eventually. Sometimes, there are external forces that you have no control over that impede your process. But also consider that your block might be your psyche's gentle way of telling you it's time to move on to the next project, the next thing that inspires you. Don't be afraid to recognize it and go in search of that next big idea. And if you're lucky enough to have it find you instead, grab onto it with both hands and never let it go."

Their eyes met over the sea of attendees and he gave her the softest of smiles, but it was enough. She understood.

Before they could stare at each other too long, a bubbly, bouncy young woman hopped up to the microphone and said, "Seriously though, could you two be any cuter?" Laughter rang out through the crowd again, interspersed with a few wolf whistles and shouts of get a room! while Castle just chuckled.

"All kidding aside, guys, most of you know about the case that Beckett and I were involved in last year, and the injuries that we sustained as a result. Our recovery has been difficult at times, and I've found myself struggling with writer's block again." More whispers flowed through the crowd, sounds of concern and distress emerging from his fans, but he quickly held up a hand in placation and everyone quieted down again.

"But I'm getting there. We both are. And honestly, being at an event like this, seeing the love you have for the characters who have meant so much to me, it's the greatest feeling in the world. I wouldn't be who I am without you guys. Just talking with you, hearing your ideas and your perspectives... this is the best inspiration a writer could ask for. It's an honor to be a part of this, to experience your enthusiasm, and your love for the written word. So, I thank you all for that."

The crowd broke out in a round of raucous applause then, and Beckett joined in without hesitation. After all, she counted herself as one of his biggest fans.

When the room grew quiet again, the bubbly young woman who had accused them of being cute finally took her turn. "Mr. Castle, my name is Carolyn and I just want you to know how much I love Nikki. She has been such an inspiration to me and I would honestly be really okay with you writing her forever. But as sad as it makes me to think about her story ending, I'm sure you'll want to move onto other projects eventually. Have you thought about what you might want to do next?"

"Well, Carolyn, I'm pretty fond of Nikki myself, obviously, and while I don't know what the future holds for her, I can't tell you what it means to me to know how much you love her. And you're not wrong in that I have given some thought to what I might do next. I have been feeling that urge to branch out, explore new subjects, maybe even an entirely new genre of writing..."

Beckett slipped out of the ballroom then, satisfied that Castle had things under control. If there was one thing she knew about that man, it was that adversity would never hold him down, and writer's block never stood a chance against him in the end.

* * *

Kate walked into the loft later that evening at what she considered to be a reasonable hour for once, another case solved and her desk clear of paperwork. She kicked off her heels beside the door and cracked her cramped toes against the cool hardwood as she looked around the space. Where was Castle? He was scheduled to be home before her, and he'd promised a delicious dinner to feed her and "their little gnocchi" in his text earlier. But the whole room was dark save for one lamp in the living room, and there were no delicious smells emanating from the unlit kitchen.

 _Huh. What gives?_ she thought.

She was about to call his name when she heard it: a faint but unmistakable sound coming from the direction of his office. She tiptoed stealthily across the room, hovering just beyond the door so he couldn't see her. And there, sitting at his desk, intense and focused, was her husband, typing away at his laptop, his fingers flying furiously over the keys.

Writing.

She felt happy tears burn at the corners of her eyes at the sight (seriously, these pregnancy hormones were out of control), and she blinked them away just as fast as she turned and quietly padded over to the kitchen to get a drink and fish the menu for their preferred Chinese place out of the drawer. She'd let him keep at it for a while; after all, she didn't want to interrupt him when he was so clearly on a roll. But in a little while, she was going to order all of his favorite dishes and crack open a bottle of that red wine he loved so much.

This was cause for celebration.

* * *

 _Episode beta work by acertainzest, ivyandtwine, and amtepe_

 _Castle Season 9 is produced by Team Planet and the writing team of Castle Season 9_ _. Executive Producer is acertainzest._

 _For a full list of season 9 authors, please look at our ffnet profile._

 _Twitter: castleseason9_

 _Tumblr: castleseason9 dot tumblr dot com_

 _Special thanks to castlefanfics for promotions_


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